


frenetic

by therewithasmile



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Dom Kara because let her be dominant, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant!Kara, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Undressing, and Mon El knows how to be a good sub too, and somewhat Sub!Mon-El, anyways yeah this is super-sex, but like its more in terms of power and not the kinky stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therewithasmile/pseuds/therewithasmile
Summary: He never realized that super really did mean.... super.





	frenetic

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise?

Her hand tangles into his hair, and for several moments, he’s not sure who’s pulling who nor what’s holding what. He loses track of who’s at fault for their steadily closing distance, when her hips crash against his and _grind_ and, shit, a noise probably escapes him but it’s long gone now, swallowed by her lips, his tongue, _her_.

Fingers near desperate again, her hands rake up and down the back of his shirt.  If he ever wondered if she were holding back before, this time he’s sure she isn’t, as he groans against the sensation of her nails ripping through the fabric, leaving the remains to fall away like ribbons. Her lips are desperate as they reclaim his, searching – nipping – _biting_ , and while it doesn’t draw blood, excitement spikes up his spine in a way that he’d never quite felt before. She pulls away at his jump, her cornflower blue eyes briefly apologetic, but he can’t help it – before bewilderment settles into her face, he takes her lips again, and anything that was one an attempt at words quickly becomes a mere moan of his name.

He’s deliberately less frenetic, though not for the lack of temptation she brings with her messy hair, swollen lips, and lidded gaze. He scoops bunches of fabric from the hem of her shirt, and she lifts her arms to help. With practiced ease, the shirt comes off and falls to the floor, whole beside the remains of _his._ And it’s _still_ too long to be away from her. He hoists her up and catches her against a wall and his own hips, locking her in place suspended in the air and supported by his own body. His mouth explores other spots – her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. Her fingers are almost demure against him, yet every so often when he hits a sensitive spot, he can feel her breath hitch as she presses down. She growls and she attempts to wrestle him back. It’s not enough to hurt, but he can tell she’s slipping, losing control – and he knows it frustrates her; he swears it’s one of the most erotic things he’s ever seen.

So he continues exploring, across the planes of her shoulders and tracing his way through her chest. He pauses against the swell of her breast, and he catches a glimpse her flushed cheeks and parted lips. One look later and he smirks, reaching behind and unhooking her bra with ease. Her nipple is already pert from the overstimulation, and he can’t help but to thumb at one before another ragged pass at his name drags through the air. He snags the nub between his teeth, delighted to find it – her – much more resistant than anyone _else_ he’s ever bedded. One tug, and another, and just adding a bit of _tongue –_

And suddenly, _he’s_ the one against the wall, and she’s pressing against him, and her hands keep running up and down his torso listlessly -- as if she may never feel again. She presses a searing kiss against him, and he’s all too aware of every curve she possesses when she’s flush against him like this, too aware of the curve of her hip and the jut of her jaw and the two beads that are too close to his own. Too soon she pulls away, her expression twisting to one of frustration, and it takes him a second before he can’t help it – he laughs. She only grows more restless as her fingers brush lower and lower, hovering over the one object that keeps her from her objective.

She captures his gaze and once again, he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He could stare at her forever and probably be content – _probably._ But he’s too aware of her and her need and _his_ own – _fuck_ \-- and so he gives as much of a smile as he can.

“Go ahead,” he whispers.

Relief floods like a tide into those blue blue eyes, but it’s nothing compared to what he feels as she near tears his belt from the loops before he does the rest for her. Her hands almost immediately find him, and the pressure and her fingers and _Rao,_ it takes biting his own lip to stop him from groaning, takes every last bit of restraint to keep him from thrusting into her hand, against her cream skin, up and  into those thighs, so so frustratingly _close_.

And again, her lips are against his, his jaw, his ear, and he lurches his head away to reciprocate, to pleasure her in ways that he knew, but she’s _still_ resistant. And stronger than him, which she demonstrates so clearly as she captures his hands in hers and then _hoists up_. For a brief second, he’s glad that she doesn’t literally lift him upwards, but the coy, self-satisfied, and almost innocent smile that spreads across her lips, especially in contrast to her nude upper body, has once again commanded total attention. And she’s kissing him and his neck and she tastes a bit like flowers and her hand is so _warm_ and it all feels good, _too_ good, and he has to chase back the temptation to lose himself too quickly before he’s even gotten her pants off.

Seemingly sensing his thoughts, a quick maneuver and now _both_ his wrists are being restrained in one grip, and he can barely register the fact that she’s undone her pants with her spare hand. Rao, he didn’t think it were possible, but just that sight of her, the pressure that restrains him, and the mental picture of what they must _look_ like gets him even more aroused. To the point where he’s somewhat frustrated that he can’t move, to the point where he can’t stop a whine of her name falling from his treacherous lips.

She holds him there, pressing even closer, her fingers _tighter,_ and her pumps go from teasing to calculated. He knows what she wants and _Rao_ he never would have thought her to have it in her, and he tries to resist it, to stop it, but the temptation is too _fucking_ much as she begins to move in rhythm to her ministrations and _fuck_. He just wants to touch her, to hold her, to rip those pants from her body – and maybe she senses it, because he can _feel_ a smile as she kisses him again.

And she, _finally,_ lets go.

And he’s not really aware of how he manages it and how he does it but he knows the pants are long gone from her legs, undergarments with it, and by the time he manages to drag a finger down and back up it, he’s pleased to find her wet. Her breath snags and she makes a noise, so he does it again. The grip around him tightens and he bites back a hiss as her hips undulate in response. He reaches up, searching, and finds the little nub. He circles once and she sips a serrated breath.

She catches his eyes, and he knows it was over.

He rubs the pad of his finger against the nub and she quivers; her fingers wrap around his length and she pumps. He can’t escape her gaze, not as he begins to pleasure her in circular motions, as he _watches_ those blue eyes fog in pleasure, can _hear_ her lips pop open as he grows more vigorous, as her hand begins to return the same enthusiasm to him as he gives her. It’s becoming more now, frantic, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s panting as he dips a finger into her. She’s tight and she’s so wet, and he doesn’t even bother teasing before he sinks another finger in. His name tumbles clumsily from her mouth and _Rao,_ he could release right _now_ if he wanted, but he pumps once, twice, and begins a rhythm, twisting his hand to still pleasure her clit with the pads of his thumbs. She _truly_ loses control now, each pump teasing out sounds from her, whether they be mewls, gasped breaths, or, when he was really lucky, a delicious moan.

Her eyes are nearly a navy blue now, so lost in lust, and when he thinks she’s leaning for a kiss, he is not prepared as she sinks low. His fingers slip out of her and, before he has time to anticipate what was coming, he feels the pressure of her lips against the tip of him. Her name really does loose from him now, deep and carnal, as she takes him, inch by inch, into his mouth. Part of him is curious to learn how she _knows_ how to do this, but another just wants to enjoy being pleasured – and so lavishly – as she shows no sign of degrading stamina. Her mouth is warm and wet and her _tongue_ does a wicked thing to him, enough for him to nearly see stars. She increases her pace and he almost doesn’t want to look, because that _would_ be his undoing.

So he places a hand on her head and she instantly understands.

She releases him with a   lascivious sound, and she lifts a leg and he catches it and – oh, oh _fuck_ , this was how he was going to take her. Her eyes find him again before they flit away – almost shyly, of all things! – and she positions him against her, and Mon El sees stars.

Kara’s tight, warm, and nothing but entirely _satisfying_ in a way he never understood, knew _could_ be understood, before. He positions up to meet her, and by the time skin reaches skin, he’s never felt so _right_. And he snaps his hips up, and she cries out – and he can tell it’s no longer demure, not shy, not _careful._ It’s a sound of pure pleasure, and he finally understands: Kara has let go.

He teases more moans from her like this, with one leg strongly supported by his arm, pistoning upwards to enter her as much as he can. He wants to keep this pace, he wants to pleasure her, he wants to drive her _crazy_ with desire. It spurns him to continue the near-painful pace, and he _knows_ Kara’s moans grow needier and needier with each pass.

She finally lifts the leg from her grasp and pulls him closer. Their lips crash together in a hungry kiss, and he realizes that she’s guiding him, lowering him to his knees. Yet he’s not resisting, somehow he’s just not, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes as he feels her reposition – and she sinks down on him, eliciting yet another long, carnal groan. He feels similarly, as this new angle is deeper, and in so many ways this was a new fit, and yet still her, a fact he can’t help but find remarkable.

And _Rao,_ she begins to move.

His teasing had worked, for she moves quicker, more desperately, more enthusiastic as she grinds against every thrust. He realizes that, with this position, she has total control again, and yet he’s content to ride out the pleasure as she rides out _him,_ growing more frantic and hungry with every lift, every twitch, even the slightest roll of her hips with him buried inside her.

Her sounds of ecstasy are unbidden now, and he knows he’s joined her at some point. He doesn’t really hear though, can’t distinguish between their voices and their bodies, and he opens his eyes and sees her, golden hair tossed back, cream skin slick with sweat, her eyes catching his and –

He loses it.

His mind scrabbles to hang on to something, _anything_ , as his world spirals from his fingertips and he feels his hips twitch and squeeze. He concentrates on her face, every minute expression she makes as she, too, flies off the edge with a wail. He feels her spasm around him, which only drags another reactionary thrust as he shallowly lifts his hips against her.

She collapses against him, still with him inside her, and her forehead touches his shoulder, her tresses tickling his neck. She’s breathing hard and so is he, and he’s still grappling to come down from his orgasm, to focus on the floor beneath them.

 And then, of all things, she _laughs._ Peels of laughter come from her and her shoulders begin to shake and for a bewildered moment he thinks he may have done something _wrong –_ but her head lulls to the side, her now sleepy-yet-brilliantly blue eyes catch him. _Radiant,_ Mon El can’t help to think, until she buries her face into _his_ hands, as she holds him in place, giggles still erupting from her shaking frame.

 _Rao,_ she’s too much – and Mon El chuckles along with her. “ _What_?” He finally manages.

She lifts her face and she’s _beet red,_ and she chews on her lip before finally answering.

“I didn’t know it could be like _this_.”

Mon El couldn’t help but to smile, and he _knows_ it’s too broad by the way his cheeks hurt and his heart hammers even more than when he was making love to her.

“Like what…. _Super_?”

Kara only bubbles with laughter as she reburies her face in his hands, and for several moments, Mon El doesn’t know what to do – certainly not with his hands. But she eventually gets off him and they shower and, after she’s already asleep beside him, he can’t help but to think the same way, too.


End file.
